


Burritos at Night

by BrightStillFell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2512253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightStillFell/pseuds/BrightStillFell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is stuck waiting outside after his dorm's fire alarm goes off. There's nothing to do, until he notices the hot guy wearing only his underwear. </p><p>From a tumblr prompt somewhere, but I've totally forgotten the exact wording.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burritos at Night

Not two hours after getting back to the dorms after his shift at the bar, Dean is rudely awoken by the ear-splitting screech of the building’s fire alarms. He looks at his clock as he pulls on some boots and groans. 4 am. Two hours rest and another three to go, though by the time it’s over it’ll probably be much less.

Grabbing his duvet around him, because goddammit he doesn’t want to leave the warmth and comfort of bed, and will bring it with him if he must, Dean trudges down the hallway following the bedraggled stream of students out of the building and into the chilly night air. They congregate nervously around the streetlamp outside, like moths to a flame.

Dean wonders vaguely if he looks like a marshmallow and then decides he doesn’t care, judging by how cold his legs are where they poke out of the duvet-burrito he’s created for himself. People are giving him looks of equal amusement and envy, and he just burrows more into the softness and warmth of his blanket, until only his nose and the top of his head is poking out.

They’ve been standing there for almost ten minutes, while the hall wardens and so forth try to sort out who’s present (not everyone was in the dorm rooms that night, either working or getting laid), and it’s only getting chillier.

Most people have remembered to bring their coats out, but there are a few that are standing around in only their pajamas.

Or less. Like that guy.

He’s only wearing a pair of what appears to be blue underwear. Dean can see his back from about twelve feet away, but the dude’s hunched over and crossed his arms to keep warm. He’s also well-built, and fairly tall. Not that Dean should really be checking out some guy in the middle of a fire drill, but damn, he’s got a nice ass. And sturdy muscular thighs like a runner. And rippling back muscles - okay, so Dean’s getting a little carried away, but sue him, the guy looks hot.

Dean, feeling bad for the now shivering, nearly naked hot guy, decides to offer his burrito warmth with him. After all, they’d both fit comfortably in the obscenely big duvet, and if Dean gets to spend some time in close proximity with a totally bangable dude, well, it’s a win-win.

Mind made up, Dean marches over (as well as any person wrapped up like a swiss-roll-blanket can march), and clears his throat. “Ahem." 

The guy jumps, slightly startled, then whips his head around to narrow blue eyes at Dean. _Whoa_ , he thinks, _he’s freaking hot. Blue eyes, brunette. Jesus, look at that collarbone - wait, stop perving on the guy, Dean, eyes up._

“Hey man, I’m Dean,” he says, “are you cold?”

The guy gives a nod as he shivers, eyes now conveying, _duh_.

Not deterred from the cool (ha!) reception, Dean opens one corner of the blanket a little, as he says, “Well, uh, would you like to share my burrito?” 

Almost-naked-dude tilts his head and narrows his eyes even more in confusion and suspicion. “You’re not holding any burrito.”

The intensity of his glare even in the gross light of the street lamp almost throws Dean off.

“Oh, see, I meant my blanket-burrito - my duvet-blanket-burrito - uh I mean my duvet; real funny name, great story, see, you wrap the duvet around yourself like a burrito, and it’s pretty warm, and so, you know...burrito,” he trails off.

There’s a long pause, and Dean wants to hit himself in the head. He looks away from Blue-eyes in embarrassment. _Real eloquent_ , he chastises himself, _way to impress the mysteriously cool hot guy._

When the silence stretches on a little longer than is comfortable Dean braves it and glances back up again. Blue-eyes is examining him intently, arms still clutched around himself, breaths white smudges against the dark sky.

He doesn’t seem to be wondering how crazy Dean is, but seems to be debating with himself whether or not to take up Dean’s offer. As Dean makes eye contact, Blue-eyes appears to make a decision.

He opens pale lips - and pauses, eyes darting across Dean’s face, and down to his collarbone peeking out through the burrito opening. He swallows, then licks his lips, (Dean tracking the tip of that pink tongue darting out), and says, averting his eyes, “That would be amenable, thank you.”

There’s a brief pause before Dean realises he’s been staring at the dude’s lips while slightly entranced, and quickly clears his throat. “No problem, dude. ‘Mi casa es su casa’, but in this case I guess it should be, ‘Mi blanket es su blanket’,” Dean says, grinning.

Hot-almost-naked-dude looks a little bewildered, so Dean just mutters a quick ‘never mind’. He moves closer and opens his duvet to the chilly night air, and drapes one end over Blue-eye’s shoulders.

They adjust the duvet a little...there. They look like they’re sharing one gigantic cape.

Dean’s front is now exposed to the cold, but Blue-eyes moves closer and clutches the blanket tighter around him. “Ohh,” he sighs, sounding happy, “it’s very warm.”

Dean grunts in acknowledgement as he brings his side as close to his body as possible to conserve heat, making sure not to come into skin contact with Blue-eyes.

Because he’s just realised he’s made a huge mistake. Dean is just as undressed as Blue-eyes is; Dean wore only a pair of black Batman boxers to bed that night, and when he left the dorm room he only brought his duvet. He hopes vainly that Blue-eyes doesn’t freak at basically being naked next to an equally naked guy, and really hopes that they don’t end up hugging for warmth or whatever, because Dean isn’t sure how much restraint he’ll have if his extremely attractive neighbour doesn’t push him away.

And now that they’re in such close proximity, Dean’s gaze can’t help but travel down the muscular length of the man standing beside him, down, down, towards a bulge contained by snug-fitting blue boxers patterned with smiling cartoon bumble bees.

Dean tears his eyes away, hoping that the hot owner of said underwear didn’t notice his creepiness. He’s in luck, as Blue-eyes is squinting instead at the building that’s still blaring through the night.

Which reminds him, “Hey, uh, what’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. I think I’d remember if-” Dean cuts himself off before he says anything more embarrassing like, ‘I’d remember if I saw someone as hot as you’. Or something.  

Once again Dean is pinned by the intense gaze of the hottest guy he’s ever seen (and been this close to without actually having sex). Dean notices absent mindedly that Blue-eyes is almost as tall as he is, and wonders how he’d fit if they were to embrace.

“We’ve actually seen each other around,” the guy murmurs, the deep voice’s gravelly quality exacerbated by the quieter volume, “I’m Castiel, I live about three doors down and across from you.” He looks at Dean expectantly.

Dean wracks his brain, trying to think of who ‘Castiel’ is. He’s heard the name, it sounds familiar, but he can’t quite summon a face. He tries matching up the faces of his hall-mates with the faces he sees in the communal kitchen but it doesn’t seem to work.

Sensing Dean’s struggle, Blue-eyes supplies, “Castiel Novak. I’m also in your lit class. I sit at the front, usually.”

It clicks. Then Dean swears out loud.

“No way! _You’re_ Castiel Novak?” Dean stares in shock at Castiel, unabashed, forgetting to play it cool in front of the hot guy. Because there’s no way that this guy is _Castiel_. Castiel’s meant to be a quiet, nerdy guy in glasses and awful sweaters. He’s supposed to look smaller than Dean, and like he’s drowning in his clothes all the time. Castiel isn’t meant to be this athletic, downright smokin’ hot dude with a voice like sin.

Dean’s not shallow, but nothing in life seems to make sense anymore.

Castiel’s eyes crinkle in amusement, the very edges of his mouth tipping up.

Dean splutters helplessly. “But - but you wear glasses! And you - you’re meant to be like, way shorter than me! Like, here!” Dean waves his arm wildly around the height of his chin, wafting cold air into their heated blanket-space.

Castiel chuckles.

“Yes, I normally do wear glasses,” he explains, “but in my haste to leave earlier, I forgot to take them with me. I’m short-sighted you see, so unfortunately I can’t quite see very well.”

It reminds Dean of something. “Is that why you keep squinting at me, dude? I thought you were pissed at me for some reason.”

Castiel looks away, and hesitates slightly before replying, “Um, precisely. I’m staring because I...can’t see. And, uh, as to the discrepancy in height, well, my sister Anna is always telling me how bad my posture is.” He pauses. “You’re an engineer, aren’t you? I think I’ve seen you with some of the other engineering students on our floor, Ash, and Jo, was it?”

Dean grins at the thought of his friends, and at the thought of Cas noticing them together. “Yeah, Ash and Jo. And you’re correct, Engineering’s my major. You’re English Lit and Theology, right?”

Castiel nods.

“I’ve heard people say you’re meant to be super smart, dude,” says Dean, really meaning that that’s what he’s thought when he’s seen Castiel Novak during their one shared class. Castiel is capable of holding the most heated debates with people in the class, including the professor, and he never raises his voice above a clear, collected tone.

Cas somehow manages to convey both smugness and awkwardness as he shrugs one shoulder. “Well then,” continues Dean, feeling the urge to tease, “if you’re so smart, how the hell did you forget a coat during a fire drill, in the middle of the night?”

Dean receives a glare in return, but the corners of Castiel’s eyes indicate that he’s teasing back.

“I did have a coat, in fact,” says Cas, as he gestures at a dark haired girl in a long, tan coat a few feet in front of them, “but as you can see, Meg was cold and so I lent it to her. Her friend Ruby,” here indicating the blonde girl next to her, “I gave my sweater to.”

Dean looks at the orange and white sweater Ruby was wearing. It is hideous.

He feels a little bad for mocking Castiel, when he was clearly very generous. He nudges the guys shoulder in silent apology, the contact flaring up hot against his skin. “But hey, if you’d kept your clothes on, I could’ve offered my burrito to them. Imagine if I had two hot girls in here instead of one hot guy,” says Dean, now nudging Castiel’s toned leg with his knee.

Castiel looks surprised, then smiles. “I highly doubt that, Dean, seeing as Meg and Ruby are only interested in each other.”

Dean sighs dramatically. “Alas! Such terrible news! It breaks one’s heart! How could one possibly carry on, without the love of two beautiful women?”

Castiel huffs a laugh and Dean grins, feeling oddly proud of himself.

He tries to ask, without being too obvious, what Castiel does to get himself into shape. It isn’t too successful but Cas indulges Dean’s creepy questions and tells him about his running schedule and regular swims.

Dean tries not to salivate at the image of an out-of-breath Castiel, glistening with sweat.

Their conversation is interrupted as an RA, a girl called Becky, walks up towards them to take their names, but stops almost ten feet away, staring at their two-man duvet-cape combination, and clutches her clipboard to her chest, gasping. Concerned, they start forwards, but she seems to recover herself quickly and almost bounces towards them.

“You’re Dean Winchester,” she says breathily. She stares nearly as intently as Cas does, but it’s not as welcome. She turns to Castiel. “And you’re,” she gulps, as she looks from his face to his collarbone and back up to his face again, “Castiel Novak,” she finishes with a sigh. Becky’s eyes linger on him, tracking the sharp lines of Castiel’s body; the angular jaw, the lean chest, and the jut of his hipbones with dark hair swelling below his belly button going down, down beyond the elastic of his blue boxers - not that Dean’s doing the same, or whatever. When she turns her attention to Dean, her eyes are as equally searching.

Dean feels uncomfortable, and judging by the way Castiel also shifts closer to Dean in order to free up more blanket to cover themselves, so does Cas. Dean gasps slightly as the movement causes Castiel’s cooler shoulders touch his, as does Becky, who brings her hands up to her mouth (including her clipboard, which proceeds to hit her in the face).

Her eyes appear to be brimming with tears. She chokes out, “You guys just look so beautiful together.”

Castiel and Dean cast each other the same look of incredulous unease. Dean is just about to ask her what her problem is when another RA pops out of nowhere, and after a quick scolding, drags Becky away with a quick apology directed at them. Becky waves as she is rushed away.

“Weeeell,” says Dean, dragging out the vowels, “that was weird.”

Castiel gives a stiff, awkward shrug. “I can’t say that was an experience I particularly enjoyed. She seemed to be...intense.”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah, intensely weird. And I kind of feel violated.”

Cas nods in acquiescence. “I was uncomfortable with how she scrutinized us, I must admit, though it did appear to be harmless for the most part.”

“She was probably just checking out your weird bees, man,” adds Dean, then shut his mouth abruptly. He wasn’t supposed to know what Castiel’s boxers had on them. It might seem like he was checking out his package (which he wasn’t, of course. It would be rude to do that to someone he’d just met).

Castiel’s head was tilted again. “What bees?”

Mortified, Dean stammers, “Uh, you know, the bees there.” He gesticulates in the general area below Cas’s flat stomach, (damn, he was doing it again), “the bees on your boxers, dude.”

Castiel narrow his eyes and he peers down at himself.

Dean can’t help but stare hungrily at the sight, mouth slightly ajar.

“Oh yes,” says Cas, in a tone that suggests he’d only just noticed the patterning. “I’d forgotten,” and as he brings his astoundingly blue eyes up to Dean’s and leans in as if telling a secret, whispers, “these are my favorite pair of boxers.”

Castiel’s breath is hot against Dean’s ear and jaw line, a contrast with the chill of the night air. Dean shivers nonetheless, a reaction not due to the cold. The shared duvet-space is getting warmer. Dean can feel it along his upper chest and lower stomach, intensifying with every hammer of his heart, or it may just be the fact that Castiel is so close, he can feel his body heat sparking on his skin.

“Oh,” he says, then swallows, noting vaguely the way Castiel’s eyes watch the bob of his adam’s apple, “that’s nice.”

Blue eyes flick back up to green, and whatever Dean was going to blurt out next is lost as his focus is drawn to the beautiful face so close to his. His breaths echo loud in his ears. Castiel’s right arm brushes along the left of Dean’s chest. The tip of a pink tongue emerges once again to moisten pale lips, and Dean feels his own mirror the action.

“I like bees,” says Dean with detachment, mesmerised now by the sharp angles of Cas’s cheekbones. Where they are in contact, torsos leaning gently into one another, Dean can feel the softness of the other man’s heated skin. Castiel murmurs a little questioning sound, breath coming in warm puffs against the side of Dean’s face. “Bees suit you,” Dean continues, “I’ve got the Batman logo on mine.”

The corners of Castiel mouth lift. It's not a smile though, more of a dark smirk.

“I think you’re lying,” growls Castiel in his gorgeous honey-whiskey voice, eliciting a shudder from Dean, “I’ve been looking all over you, and I haven’t seen it at all.”

There is a pause while the words sink in. Cas freezes; the spell of whatever was happening between the two breaks.

Castiel’s eyes are a little too wide, and hugely embarrassed at revealing that he’s been looking at Dean. Dean notices only now that the alarms are off, probably for a while now, but that they haven’t realised until now, having been so wrapped up - literally - in one another.

Cas turns away (because somehow between Becky leaving and now they’ve turned so that they’re almost facing) and looks at the ground in front of him.

Dean smiles, glad that he wasn’t the only one checking the other out. He’s almost relieved, but with that comes nervousness.

Making sure to use a light-hearted tone so that Castiel would know he wasn’t angry, he says, “I’m glad, because I can’t look away from you too, Cas. And, y’know, I think I don’t want to stop. I want to be able to look at you whenever you’d let me.” Dean’s heart thumps in his chest. “Is that okay?”

There’s a pause, then Castiel whips his head around so fast that the messy strands of his hair swing around too, eyes wider than Dean’s seen so far. There’s movement all around them as the RAs and hall wardens usher the milling students back inside. Dean ignores it, choosing instead to watch the pinking blush on the high ridges of his cheekbones.

Cas gives the tiniest nod, and smiles. It’s a small one, but it crinkles his eyes and it scrunches his nose. It’s the cutest goddamn smile Dean has ever seen. Dean’s been in close proximity with one of the hottest bodies he’s seen for ages, but the smile on Castiel’s face is at least ten times more captivating than his hipbones ever were. Well, maybe four times.

Castiel gestures towards the building entrance. They walk along the path in silence, though every now and then they share affectionate smiles, and when they enter the building, Castiel slips one hand into Dean’s as they walk down the hall together, which is now devoid of people.

Castiel is the first to reach his room, and swings the duvet from around his shoulders.

Dean’s mouth goes a little dry at the full expanse of Castiel’s body, which Castiel notices right away and grins. He stretches a little, and chuckles at the dark glint in Dean’s eyes.

“I’ll see you soon,” says Cas, as he unlocks his door. Dean thanks god that they share the same floor, and that they can meet each other whenever they want.

As Cas turns away to walk into his room, Dean impulsively presses a kiss to Castiel’s cheek, and whispers into his ear, “don’t go in just yet, I’ve got something to show you.”

Castiel, blushing fiercely, turns back around and looks expectantly at him. Dean only smirks and begins to walk away, hoisting up the entire duvet around his shoulders. It’s heavy and awkward to carry, but Dean is able to lift it clear above his boxers, and wiggles his ass as he walks away.

He chances a look back at Cas as he reaches his room only three doors down. The dark-haired guy is staring unashamedly, eyes widening in recognition as he identifies the Batman logo printed across Dean’s butt. Dean winks, and watches Castiel swallow before turning to unlock his own door.

He liked Cas’s boxers, Dean reminisced as he lay in bed almost an hour and a half after being first woken, but he’s pretty confident he’d like them more if they were lying on his floor.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr if you want  
> presidenttran.tumblr.com


End file.
